


That Guy Strikes Back

by tikistitch



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will young Toki Wartooth be accepted into the Jedi Order?  Or will he be forced to remain forever on his boring crappy home planet, repairing cranky mining droids and drinking blue milk?  This fic is set in the Star Wars universe, between the time of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and the original Star Wars: A New Hope (which some of you kiddies might also know as Episode IV).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you are one of those legendary folks who has never seen any of the Star Wars films: seriously, what the fuck? Beta by the incomparable zsomeone.

Title: That Guy Strikes Back, Part 1 of 2  
Author: Tikistitch  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Will young Toki Wartooth be accepted into the Jedi Order? Or will he be forced to remain forever on his boring crappy home planet, repairing cranky mining droids and drinking blue milk? This fic is set in the Star Wars universe, between the time of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and the original Star Wars: A New Hope (which some of you kiddies might also know as Episode IV).  
Characters/Pairings: Dethklok ensemble; sorta S/T if you squint, hint of C/P, whiff of M/K.  
Disclaimer: Apologies are owed, as usual, to Brendon Small and the Cartoon Network, for theft of characters; to Lucasfilm Limited, for pilfering an entire universe and settings; and lastly, to you, the reader, for bearing with this nonsense.  
Warnings: Cursing, ridiculous side of the Force.  
Notes: If you are one of those legendary folks who has never seen any of the Star Wars films: seriously, what the fuck? Beta by the incomparable Zsomeone.

 

_Part 1 of 2_

> **It is a brutal time in the universe. For thousands of years, Jedi knights preserved peace in the galaxy by swinging around awesome cool lightsabers and being all badass and shit. But then the Empire, led by the Emperor and his apprentice, Darth Vader, tried to wipe all of the Jedi, which was totally lame and unmetal.**

> **But some few Jedi knights managed to escape the slaughter. The Emperor has set soldiers of fortune to hunt down these survivors and kill them. The Emperor is kind of a douchebag.**

> **Meanwhile, on the obscure Outer Rim planet of Belphegor, young Toki Wartooth awaits, working on his uncle's spice mine. He is unaware that DESTINY, in the form of some really massively incompetent Jedi, is about to come a-knocking.**

 

Toki Wartooth lay on his back and gazed up at the infinite universe: flecks of yellow painted on an aubergine sky. He reached up a hand, and grasped at nothing.

So fucking far away.

Seeing the stars from this cursed planet, Belphegor, took more than a little patience: the binary suns around which this half-dead ball of clay rotated made twilight and dawn drag on for eternity. These phases between night and day were more fleeting in other solar systems. Or so Toki had heard: he had never been offworld. Uncle's star freighter, parked in the hangar, had been gathering rust since he could remember. And here he was, as usual, caked in dust and sweat after a day tinkering with cranky and recalcitrant droids, dreaming about the stars.

Belphegor itself was a cold, dusty place. At one point, many millennia ago, the planet had housed abundant native animals and plant life. That was before aggressive spice mining had ruined the land, turning fertile fields to silent plains of rock. A few animals still remained here: mostly tough and vile-tempered beasts. His uncle and aunt barely eked out a living, sifting the scraps from depleted spice veins it wasn't worthwhile for the bigger enterprises to bother with. 

He heard the gentle click: one of the mining droids cycling off to cool down. He smiled faintly: his repairs had evidently worked. A few more weeks work from the poor, badly outmoded things. This rinky-dink family mining operation, held together with electrician's tape and bailing wire and probably the rust itself. The Empire would come and put them out of business soon enough. These small operations were doomed, even though Uncle would never admit it. He was a proud bastard.

And Toki, he was just a bastard.

He glanced at his watch and was quite suddenly sitting up, now sweating not from exertion but anxiety. Fuck! He had wool-gathered far longer than expected, and now Uncle would tan his hide. Taking one last frantic look around the site to make sure nothing had ground a gear or blown a motivator, he leapt into his ancient landspeeder. It took a couple of tries to get the motor to turn over – stupid piece of shit – he would have to try another tune-up whenever Uncle gave him a moment. And off he sped, towards home.

He soon approached the Y junction: would it be the low road or the high road tonight? He took almost no time at all in deciding a short cut was in order. The low road, around the dead salt lake, was surer but slower. But the high road, on the other hand.... Despite his current predicament Toki found a grin pasted on his face. Before men had choked this planet's environment, rivers had run freely and forests grew green. He was now heading towards an ancient forest, so old the trees had turned to gnarled stumps and the stumps to stones of quartz. For a normal pilot, going through the forest was a hazard. For someone like Toki though it was a breakneck carnival ride.

As the tall forest approached, he cleared his mind. Though only eighteen standard years (on his last birthday, not that they'd celebrated) Toki had always been one of the best pilots in town, or any of the surrounding towns. If he calmed himself he could see two, three, ten steps ahead, where he was before he was even there. 

And there he was, right over the first stump, around the snag, and then over a pair of ancient fallen logs, trees that hadn't breathed real air for forgotten generations. But he was already many meters ahead, adjusting the pitch and yaw, steering up and down and over and even under. Somewhere he knew he shouldn't, not with Uncle's speeder, but his foot pressed the accelerator and the hazards only came faster, his escapes, narrower. Over, under, up and down. There was nothing he couldn't do, nowhere he couldn't go. He was riding through the stars, getting off this rock....

And there it was, the other side ... almost there, just a turn and a duck and....

It was the last stump, the very last goddamn stump. And the fucked up part was, he knew he was going to hit it and was just going too fast to do a damned thing but hold on when it creased a tail fin. He held on, his guidance now damaged, while the craft did a complete 360 that turned to a 720 and then the spinning slowed and slowed, and he was slowing down and down and coming to earth and finally stopped.

The world had stopped spinning, not so much his own head. He leapt out anyway and stumbled around, trying to view the damaged tail fin. He sighed in relief: he would be OK. He could pound out the worst of it right here, enough to get himself home. And the with luck, he'd be able to polish it out tomorrow morning before Uncle spotted it. Another chore. 

He shook his head and went to open his tool kit, and that was when he became aware of the noise. Vehicle approaching. Maybe a speeder bike? He didn't recognize the sound of the engine anyway. Strangers appearing out here could mean several things, none of them good. He grabbed the biggest, heaviest hydrospanner and gripped it tightly, hugging it to his body as he turned. He was a skinny kid, but they sure as hell weren't going to take him without a fight.

It was a speeder bike – a big one. The biggest one he had ever seen, in fact. And it had not one, but two sidecars, something he had never seen before. 

The driver stomped on the brakes and had leapt off nearly before the thing had come to a halt. “Hey, kid!” he called. “THAT WAS AWESOME!”

Toki clutched the hydrospanner tighter and looked up, fascinated, at the being in front of him. He looked more or less humanoid, but even in the dim running lights of his speeder, Toki could tell he was not human. Crocodoid of some kind, he guessed. The skin had a greenish tint to it, and the wily green eyes had slit-like irises, which seemed lit from behind. 

“Who- Who ams you?” Toki demanded, his voice disobediently cracking.

“I'm Nathan!” said the alien, grinning a large, not terribly reassuring grin of white, pointed teeth. “And my pal is Skwisgaar. Hey, say hi, Skwisgaar!”

His passenger had dismounted from the sidecar. Toki stifled a gasp. Though probably a human, Skwisgaar seemed as impressive in his way as Nathan, tall like the Crocodoid, but more slender, with an utterly amazing, graceful dancer's posture. He stared down his aquiline nose at Toki, sky blue eyes narrowing. “Ja, who ams dis guy?”

Toki's grip on the hydrospanner loosened a fraction. An outer rim accent! Maybe these guys were OK? “I ams Toki,” he choked. 

“Toki, dude!” said Nathan. “You are an amazing fucking pilot! Didn't I fucking say that to you, Skwis? I was like, THAT GUY, he's fucking amazing and shit, because I've never seem somebody go and do stuff and things like I've seen that guy doing!”

“Reallies?” asked Toki, who was actually still staring at Skwisgaar. For his part, the tall man, with a toss of his luxuriant blond hair, looked away, as if already bored with Toki.

“Yeah, really, like I said, I told Skwisgaar, THAT DUDE MUST BE A STAR PILOT, because the way he pilots that speeder, he is one badass dude, isn't that what I told you Skwisgaar?”

“Ja,” allowed Skwisgaar, who seemed to be off somewhere else. “Maybes-” he began. He looked around at Toki. “Maybe he ams has da starship?”

Toki felt pinned down by those striking blue eyes. “My uncle has one,” Toki told them eagerly. “But-”

“Yeah, I bet you do kid!” said Nathan! “And I bet you could pilot it all over the place. I mean, like outrunning the Empire, you know, if they happened to be chasing us? And stuff like that.”

“You ams has to ask my uncle,” said Toki, knowing already what his uncle would say about a stranger and an alien – an alien! - who wanted to use the star freighter. “Uh, what you ams says you guys do?”

“Wellllll,” said Nathan, who was now wrapping a big arm around Toki's thin shoulders. “It's kind of a secret. Can you keep a secret? You look like a man who can keep a secret, doesn't he, Skwisgaar?”

Toki nodded, a bit confused.

“We're JEDI KNIGHTS!”

Toki was suddenly crouching on the ground, scrambling to retrieve the hydrospanner he had just let slip from his grip. It had fallen with a rather embarrassing clatter.

“Nat'ans...” warned Skwisgaar.

“You ams.... You ams da JEDI?” asked Toki in an excited whisper. Suddenly, worlds had opened up. Jedi! He had never in his life heard of a single Jedi knight even venturing onto his Force-forsaken planet, much less two of them, together, right here, in the shiny green flesh. 

“And, we're RECRUITING!” Nathan confided as he pulled Toki back up by the collar. “Yeah. For the JEDI ACADEMY. Because we wanna get young Jedi to train and do Jedi stuff, with lightsabers and all that shit. And like I told Skwisgaar, hey, THAT GUY! I bet THAT GUY is STRONG IN THE FORCE!” Nathan flashed another bright pointy crocodile grin. Toki cast a worried glance over to Skwisgaar. It sounded almost too good to be true.

“Nat'ans,” Skwisgaar began again.

“C'mon, Skwis,” said Nathan. “What we'll do is, we'll go, and we'll talk to this dude's uncle about recruiting him and stuff....”

“And maybes whether dey ams using dat starship?” asked Skwisgaar, blond brows knitted.

“Yeah, and that too!” agreed Nathan. “Whaddya think, Toki dude? You wanna come and learn the ways of the Force and shit like that?”

Toki was trying to jump start his mind. It had ceased working at the phrase “Jedi knight,” and still hadn't quite come back. “Uhhhhh,” he said lamely. “I gots to repairs da tails fin, so I can drive home?” 

Skwisgaar walked around and gave the tailfin a look. “Pffft. Maybe you ams helps him, Nat'ans?”

“Sure, kid! Where you keep your HAMMER!”

 

This was not going well.

Despite the late hour, or perhaps because of it, Uncle had been out waiting when they arrived at the homestead, perhaps alerted by the sound of the unfamiliar speeder bike. His keen eye had immediately picked the hastily repaired tailfin on the landspeeder.

“You ams been wastings da times again? When you should be working?” Uncle Aslaug had thundered, Aunt Anja staring stoically over his shoulder.

“Dey ams da Jedi, Uncle!” Toki had protested.

“Jedi?” said Uncle, turning to the two men, one with a pointy-toothed smile, one with an imperious sneer. And then Uncle got very quiet, which was never good.

“Go insides, Toki,” Uncle hissed.

“But Uncle, dey ams-”

“Now, boy!” said Uncle, staring him down.

And then the wide universe, the pretty stars that had seemed so finally near his grasp, the universe he had marveled at, all the ride home, suddenly so near, never so near – it all came crashing, smashing down on him, into his chest, choking him as he ran inside, eyes already streaked with tears, and threw himself down on the bed in his small room. He couldn't hear all of the conversation, just enough of them: never! He would never leave. He'd be stuck here, tied down to earth, eking two or three more days of life out of rusty tin can robots so they could scrape the leavings of long-exhausted veins of spice from the ruined planet. 

He balled his fists, grabbing down the frayed stuffed animal toy he'd had since he was a kid. “You ams my only damned friend, Deddy,” he grumbled to the empty button eyes. He looked out his window at the night sky, the stars now seeming to mock him, hearing the ticks of the Jedi's speeder bike, parked just outside his window, as the big engine cooled. 

_The Jedi's speeder bike._

Holding Deddy securely in the crook of his arm, he cautiously approached the window. Nathan had parked the bike outside, around the side of the house and just out of sight of the front porch.

He pressed his face to the window, looking and listening. He still heard the quarrel. “Jedi scums! You ams wants to bring da Empires? TO MY HOUSE?” Aslaug was wailing. 

Toki looked carefully, but no one was watching.

He grinned at Deddy.

 

“Man that SUCKED!”

“Nat'ans, I tells you, dey not buys dis Jedi stories.”

“Well, why the hell not?” groused Nathan, black hair whipping in the wind, pupils narrowed to black slits in irritation. “We are obviously STRONG IN THE FORCE!”

“Pffft. Deir starship, it ams mostly da rusts anyways,” Skwisgaar told him. “I ams tooks a looks while you ams shoutsing at da guy.”

“Yeah, I didn't like THAT GUY,” Nathan growled, pointed teeth showing. “It's too bad about that kid, because I think he would have been better off away from that old fucker.”

“Nat'ans, dat ams somet'ing I gots to talks to you abouts!” Skwisgaar grumbled.

“I ams all rights! I ams comes wit' yous!” chriped Toki. The speeder bike whined as Nathan suddenly veered off the road in surprise at the boy who had just popped up in his empty side car.

“WOWEE!” laughed Toki as Nathan, with some effort, righted the bike and brought it back to the dusty roadway.

“Aw, fucksing fucks!” wailed Skwisgaar.

“Whoa,” said Nathan, looking at Toki. “You gotta stop doing stuff like that, kid, that's distracting!”

“I ams comes wit' you! I ams bes da Jedi!” Toki told him.

“Nat'ans! You ams gots to tells him, or I ams!” said Skwisgaar, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Yeah, all right sure,” sighed Nathan. “I'll pull up at that cafe ahead. I think I'm gonna need a drink.”

Toki looked between the two men, confused, but he decided that Jedi must have curious ways, so held his tongue until Nathan had stopped the speeder bike, and they all filed out to a dusty, nearly deserted roadside cafe. It was a pretty typical setup: some kind of meat (probably bantha, or at least you hoped it was bantha, and not womp rat, or worse) roasting on the grill; a scattering of battered tables and chairs, and then a small, crudely-constructed bar at the very back. 

Toki smelled the cooking meat and felt the empty place in his belly, having of course missed dinner that night. He rubbed his stomach and hoped that being a Jedi apprentice included meals. The only other beings at the place were a quiet clump of stormtroopers and Imperial officers at one corner, and the bartender. 

Despite his hunger, Toki spared a second glance at the bartender. He wasn't familiar with the species, but the guy had head tentacles which were evidently prehensile, as he was currently polishing a glass with one pair, smoking something (it smelled vaguely of spice, but Toki couldn't determine any more) and ringing up the ancient cash register with another. He was using his actual hands to draw beers, which Skwisgaar, up at the bar, had just ordered for them. 

Three beers, Toki noticed, licking his lips. Well, beer was sort of food, right?

“Nat'ans,” said Toki, who was wondering about stuff to eat.

“So, here's what I heard, kid,” said Nathan, easing his bulk into a chair at the table farthest from the Empire and taking a big gulp of the amber liquid Skwisgaar had just plonked in front of him. “So, there was this Jedi, and he was all strong in the force and shit, and he was in love with this really cute chick, Panda Bear, or something, but she was gonna die, or some weird shit, so he all TURNED TO THE DARK SIDE, and then they went and killed all the Jedi dudes, and some ladies too, and burned the temple, and killed all those dudes. So, there's no more Jedi, and no more temple, and we're being hunted down and it's TOTALLY LAME AND NOT METAL.”

Toki blinked and wiped foam from his upper lip. Beer was good. 

“Anyway, that's what I heard,” explained Nathan.

Toki looked up at Nathan curiously. “Dere ams no more Jedi temples?”

“Dat is what we ams sayings,” sighed Skwisgaar.

“But den how you ams gonna train me in da Jedi way?” asked Toki, taking another swig.

“Uh, we gotta call fer yoo doods. All o' yoo.” Toki peered up at the funny tentacled bartender, who was now poking an appendage at Nathan.

“Call? For us?” asked Nathan, looking at Skwisgaar.

“Yeh. All yoo doods,” repeated the bartender. “Like, real important an' stuff. Behind da bar,” he told them, gesturing with several reddish tentacles.

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Ja, OK, I ams plays.” He got up to follow the bartender back. Nathan guzzled his beer and followed, and Toki pattered after them.

“Okee, here yoo go,” said the bartender, setting out a transmitter. “Innerspace transmission. Really important.” 

And so saying, he suddenly ducked down behind the bar.

“Huh, weird octo-dude,” muttered Nathan, poking at the transmitter. “Hello? Hello?” 

There was the sound of an approaching speeder. 

“Hello?” Nathan repeated. 

“Uh, Nat'ans,” said Skwisgaar, poking Nathan in the back. And then Skwisgaar too ducked down. 

“Hello?” Nathan asked the transmitter one more time. “There's nobody- Oh, shit!” And then Nathan was down too, tackling Toki as he went. “Dumb conversation anyway,” he muttered.

The landspeeder came to a sudden halt just opposite where the stormtroopers and Imperial officers were gathered drinking. Some of the Imperials actually spared a bored glance at the speeder. But all the Empire's finest were quickly blasted to oblivion by several masked beings manning blaster rifles in the speeder.

The speeder then hurled away.

“Holy craps!” said Skwisgaar, peeping up over the bar.

“Yeh,” commented the bartender, regarding the pile of bodies. “A lotta Imperial poodoo t' clean up.”

“Wait,” said Nathan, his slitted eyes open wide. “Dude, are you in THE REBELLION?”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!” warned the bartender, holding a tentacle in front of his mouth.

“Dude,” Nathan whispered, in a not particularly soft whisper, “Are you in THE REBELLION?”

“Yeh. Mebbe,” allowed the bartender.

“We ams Jedi,” said Skwisgaar.

“Holy poodoo. Really?” said the bartender, somewhat skeptically.

“Yeah, and we totally CRASH LANDED on this piece of shit planet and we need to get off,” Nathan explained. 

“I might know a dood,” said the bartender. “Ah'm Pickles, da bardentah, by da way.”

“I'm Nathan, and this is Skwisgaar, and Toki, our JEDI APPRENTICE.”

“Dey ams calls dem Padawan,” Skwisgaar sighed.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Nathan.

Toki found he was grinning ear to ear to be referred to as anything at all.

“Yoo doods mebbe help me dispose o' da mess, and den we'll go see my dood tomorrow. He lives out by da seaside.”

“Oh, the seaside! The beach is AWESOME!” said Nathan approviingly, to a very puzzled look from Pickles the bartender.

 

Pickles had readily agreed to let Toki pilot his landspeeder. It was old, but not anywhere near as old as the one Toki was used to driving, and it was amazing. Without thinking about it too much, he had gotten out a little ahead of Nathan and Skwisgaar, who rode on Nathan's large speeder bike.

“Hey, yer pretty gud at this t'ing. Is this a Jedi skill or somthin'?” inquired Pickles amiably. The bartender appeared very easygoing, which was quickly explained when he broke out another of his special cigarettes.

“I ams just mets dose guys, actuallies,” Toki explained, coughing slightly at the smoke. “I ams works in da spice mines.”

“Whoa, dood!” said Pickles, who, for the first time in their brief acquaintanship, actually looked excited. “Yoo mine SPICE?”

“I ams works for my uncle.”

“Why would yoo wanna leave dat?”

Toki frowned at Pickles. “To ams leaves da planets? Sees da univoise?”

“Yeah, da yooniverse,” muttered Pickles, smoke clutched in a tentacle. “I been dere. Ain't all it's cracked up to be. Turn here, dat way!” he said, pointing a couple of red tentacles up to the right.

Toki turned off into a narrow canyon. They hadn't gone far, however, when they reached a dead end. 

“I t'ought you ams knows da way?” asked Toki as they stopped the speeder at the sheer rock wall that ended the canyon and got out to take a look.

“Well, mebbe, it's been a while. Dis dood don't like visitors dat much,” mused Pickles, knocking on the blank rock wall with a tentacle.

There was an unholy roar as Nathan and Skwisgaar pulled up behind them, the already loud speeder bike echoing against the narrow canyon walls.

“Where the FUCK are we?” demanded Nathan as he too leapt off his bike.

“I t'ink we zigged when we shoulda zagged,” confessed Pickles. “Hey, is dat yer bike?” he asked, hearing yet another unholy roar.

“No, dude, I turned it off...” Nathan began, but then stopped as suddenly all of them became aware of a rather large shadow cast against the rock wall.

“Gundark!” shouted Pickles as the gigantic hairy beast growled menacingly. “Doodes, git out yer lightsaber t'ings!”

“Uhhhhhhh,” said Nathan.

“We ain't got lightsabers!” supplied Skwisgaar.

“WUT TH' FECK ARE JEDI DOIN' WIT'OUT LIGHTSABERS?” wailed Pickles.

“Uh, ams kind of lost it,” confessed Skwisgaar.

“How do yoo lose yer feckin' lightsaber?” asked Pickles.

“Actuallys, ams da interestings stories....” said Skwisgaar.

“Everybody, RUUUUUUUUUUN!” bellowed Nathan. The group scattered just as the huge, four-armed beast struck out one tremendous clawed hand at them, bringing down a good chunk of canyon wall as it did. Since the monster had boxed them in to the end of the canyon, opportunities for shelter were few. Toki scrambled into a shallow dimple in the canyon wall behind a rock outcropping, where he struggled to keep his breathing under control.

The Gundark paused, twitching its pointed ears, seeming to decide which member of the party would make the best canape. Then without warning, it turned, and struck out one set of clawed hands at the now tiny-seeming pile of rocks that was sheltering Toki. He gasped and covered his head as he felt the claws strike within inches of him. When he opened his eyes, they were staring directly into the fiendishly grinning face of a 12 foot monster. He blinked and cursed to himself. Instead of seeing the universe, he was going to see the inside of a Gundark. This adventure fucking sucked.

Toki's survival instinct took over, and he scooped up some sand to hurl into the monster's eye, temporarily blinding it. He found himself scrambling out of his now ruined hiding place, just centimeters in front of a clawed hand. He began climbing up the sheer rock wall of the canyon, a process that was impeded both by the lack of handholds, and by the Gundark sending claws furiously into the wall, bringing down parts of it as it struck.

He grasped out: another hand hold was within his grasp. He reached out, getting a finger, and then two, and then his hand, and then he stepped off and was hanging, grateful it had taken his weight. 

But then the Gundark pounded the canyon wall one more time and the handhold crumbled, taking a madly flailing Toki right with it. He came to rest, bruised and battered, at the floor of the canyon. He saw a horrible clawed hand about to strike, and raised one pathetic arm over his face.

Suddenly a tremendous growl echoed up and down the canyon. The Gundark froze, and then was on its feet, looking left and right. It had been the mating call of a lady Gundark, but there were no females in sight.

What was in sight was a hooded figure, standing and evidently attempting to stare down the Gundark. The Gundark howled with betrayal, and lunged towards the figure. But the hooded being suddenly thrust out one hand, in a “stop” gesture, and the huge beast was slammed full force into the canyon wall. Stunned, it got to its feet, shaking its head.

The hooded figure was now making a pulling gesture with both hands. There was a sharp crack. The Gundark looked up just in time to see a giant limestone stalactite come loose from the canyon wall above, and come plunging down, directly into the Gundark's surprised face.

The Gundark stumbled exactly one step, then collapsed with an earth-shaking slam and then lay dead in a pool of its own sticky blood.

Toki, who had been watching the entire fight in stunned silence, suddenly felt himself being pulled up by the collar. 

“Come on, kid,” said the hooded figure. “We've got to get outta here.”

“CHARLIE!” hailed Pickles, who had just come out of hiding.

The man flipped back his hood, to reveal an unimpressive looking human man. He was of indeterminate age, and had light brown hair gathered neatly in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. There was a thin red scar running down his cheek. He wore thick-looking eyeglasses, though which he glared at Pickles.

“Pickles?” he asked as he was abruptly swept into a many-tentacled embrace. 

“Dooooo! Yoo rescooed us!”

Pickles was awkwardly pushed back. “Uh. What the fuck are you doing all the way out here, Pickles?”

“Dooood! I gaht some doods who wanna meet yoo! Dey're JEDI too!” explained Pickles, waving several tentacles in the direction of an oddly abashed looking Nathan and Skwisgaar.

“YOU TWO!” raged the hooded man.

“Uh. Hey. Charles,” said Nathan.

“Master Charles,” said Skwisgaar, giving a formal little bow.

“Not you again!” said Charles, rubbing his forehead. “And you've got a kid with you this time? What the fuck do you think you're doing out here, Skwisgaar?”

“Uh. Yoo doods know each udder?” asked Pickles, scratching his head with a tentacle.

“Uhhhhhh,” explained Nathan.

“Let's..... Let's just get back to my place, _where it's safe,_ and discuss this,” said Charles who was already stalking towards Pickles' speeder. Pickles hurried after him, jumped in the drivers seat, and took off.

“Come on, dudes,” said Nathan, urging Toki and Skwisgaar to the speeder bike.

 

“The beach here FUCKING SUCKS!” said Nathan, regarding the wasteland visible through the living room window of Charles' small house. Millennia ago, it had been an ocean.

“Ouchie!” said Toki, who was sitting in the corner, letting Pickles bandage the scratches he had received trying to escape the Gundark.

“Sahry, kiddo,” said Pickles, expertly holding out a bandage between two head tentacles and cutting it with a third tentacle.

“I ask again, what do you guys think you're doing?” demanded Charles, who had just brought out a small box. “And what the fuck did you do with your lightsaber this time, Skwisgaar?”

“It ams kinda skankly-plated,” sighed Skwisgaar, who crowded near the box to look over the lightsabers neatly spread out on the lining.

“It's always 'complicated,'” grumbled Charles. “And Nathan, you're not even a real Jedi anyway!” he scolded as Nathan greedily stuck his hand in the box and came up with a saber.

“Awwww, c'mon Charles!”

“Is that your lightsaber, Nathan? Does that belong to you?” fretted Charles.

“This stuff is easy!” Nathan scoffed. “You just press the button and the blade comes out THERE!” he demonstrated, his slitted eyes narrowing when no blade emerged from the saber handle. He sniffed, and looked in back of him, where the blade in the saber, which he had been holding backwards, stuck through one of Charles' lamps. “Uhhhhh. I can pay for that.”

Charles wiggled a finger, and the blade suddenly flew out of Nathan's grasp and back to Charles, who sighed heavily. “And that was a good lamp,” he grumbled. “Here, try this one, Skwisgaar,” he sighed, handing it off to Skwisgaar. “And how did you two end up on THIS planet anyways?”

“We was kinds of snoggling,” explained Skwisgaar.

“We were smuggling SPICE and got stopped by the fucking IMPERIALS. Empire douchebags,” said Nathan.

“You two were smuggling _spice_ onto a _spice-mining planet_?” asked Charles, who seemed quite exasperated.

“Uh, yeah!” agreed Nathan with a pointy-toothed grin. “Hey, I bet nobody else ever thought of something like that!”

“Huh. Spice, dat's cool!” opined Pickles. “Hey, kid, I ain't gonna molest ya!” he said, waving some tentacles. Toki angrily smoothed down his shirt, which Pickles had been trying to pull up.

“And the kid? What the fuck are you guys planning for him?” asked Charles.

“I gots a name!” said Toki, brushing off Pickles' tentacles. “I ams Toki!”

“Look, _Toki_ ,” said Charles.

“But CHARLES!” whined Nathan. “The kid is FORCE SENSITIVE! He can drive like a motherfucker!”

“Driving like an idiot does not make you a Jedi,” Charles insisted. “Skwisgaar, you at least should know that! You need to take him back to his parents!”

“Ams not got parents!” said Toki.

“Then, wherever the hell you picked him up.”

“Dood, you gahta stand still so I kin bandage dat cut,” Pickles told Toki.

“I wanna be trained as da Jedi!” Toki insisted.

“Toki,” said Pickles, pulling at his bloody shirt.

Charles rolled his eyes and approached Toki. He waved his hand in front of the boy. “You will let Pickles fix you up,” he said. Toki's eyes glazed over, and Pickles finally pulled his shirt up in the back.

“Oh. Shit,” said Pickles, lifting Toki's shirt. He looked up at Charles, who frowned. The boy's back was a network of scars, some very old. Some very recent.

And some that were barely healed. Charles and Pickles stared in concerned silence.

“I ams not goes back to my Uncles! And dat ams final!” yelled Toki, who had seemingly just awakened from the Force trance. He rose and stormed out of the house. He didn't storm very far, however, as the pathway dead ended on a cliff overlooking what used to be a grand ocean. Another goddamn dead end, he fumed, wiping a tear as he looked up to the sky. The twin suns hung at the horizon, mocking him. So near, and yet so far away.

“My home. It was a binary system too.” 

Toki started. He hadn't heard Master Charles come walking up behind him. “Why ams you here, and not back dere, at your home, den?” asked Toki, stubbornly keeping his back to Charles.

Charles shrugged. “Toki, about the scars on your back-”

“I ams not wants to talk about dat!”

“OK.”

“I ams wants to be trained as da Jedi! And get off dis fucksing crap planets!”

“All right,” said Charles. “Toki. You realize, don't you, there is no Jedi Academy? Not any more?”

“Ja. Ja, maybes.” Trapped again.

“I can't offer-”

“Ja? Well, maybes I not ams works for you anyways! I ams wants to train with Skwisgaar. You ams da crappy Jedi anyways!”

“Yeah. You're probably right.” Charles nodded, and left Toki there to fume at no one. Toki half turned to watch him go. Pickles was wafting up the path. As Charles and Pickles passed each other, they paused for a moment. Pickles stuck out a tentacle and playfully cuffed Charles on the chin. Charles stiffened and scowled at Pickles, but then his expression softened. He shook his head, and walked back to his house.

Pickles continued up towards where Toki was standing. He hopped up on a boulder, and pulled a smoke out of his vest. He lit up, and sat in silence for a while.

“You wanna hit?” asked Pickles at length. 

Toki shrugged, but then took the smoke from Pickles' red tentacle. He puffed experimentally, and then bent over in a coughing fit. 

Pickles laughed softly and whacked him on the back with a couple of tentacles. “Here dood, lemme show yoo. You breath in, and den you keep it in yer gills fer a minnit.” He demonstrated. “Let it get in yer air sac,” he advised, blowing out smoke.

“I ams not sure I has an air sac,” said Toki, trying again. This time the spicy smoke went down a little better. He looked up. The suns ... had they always been this amazing?

“So, what ams up wit' dat guy?” Toki asked Pickles, waving at Charles' house.

“Oh, Charlie? Yeh,” said Pickles. “Dey destroyed his home world. Broojeria. Da Empire did. Da whole t'ing. An' I t'ink he ain't been da same since.”

“What? Da whole planets? Dey can't do dats!”

“Uh, yeh. Dey got some destroyer ship now. Big as a moon, it's supposed t' be. An', dey took it out Charlie's home, his family. He wuz off wurld when it happened. Dat's how he ended up here, how I got t' know him.” Pickles smiled slightly. Toki looked at him curiously, but the bartender didn't elaborate further.

“You ams gonna send me back?” asked Toki.

“Wul, I dunno, kiddo. I t'ought mebbe Charlie wanted to, but mebbe we kin talk him outta it, huh?” He smiled conspiratorially. 

“You ams helps me?” Toki asked him.

“Yeh. Yoo seem like a gud kid. But, yoo realize, it's dangerous, workin' fer da Rebellion an all dat?”

“I ams readies for da dangers!” said Toki, turning around. “Whoa!” he said, suddenly collapsing into Pickles' arms. The world continued swirling.

“Let's git yoo inside, eh kiddo?” laughed Pickles, hefting Toki's arm over his shoulder and walking him inside.

“What did you give him?” Charles asked as Pickles let Toki collapse onto the couch. Toki started snoring, his head buried in the cushions.

“Wanna hit?” laughed Pickles, extending a tentacle.

“What's in it?” asked Charles, narrowing his eyes.

“Yoo don't wanna know,” said Pickles as Charles took the smoke. “An' where are da Jedi doods?”

“Jedi?” asked Charles, rolling his eyes as he inhaled. “They're out too.”

“We can't send him back to his home. Yoo know dat.”

“What do I know?” said Charles. 

“Quit talkin' in Jedi riddle crap.”

Charles shrugged. “Anyway. I sent word to a guy I know. He can maybe at least get those two nerf herders in the guest room back off the planet.”

“Dey're in da guest room?” asked Pickles.

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. An' da kid is on da couch.”

“Yeah?” 

Pickles smiled. “So where 'm Ah sleepin'?” he asked, one tentacle lightly caressing the scar on Charles' cheek.

Charles exhaled, blowing a fine mist of spicy smoke. 

 

“I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT WAS SAFE HERE!” Nathan bellowed.

“Did you think to look to see if you were FOLLOWED?” Charles bellowed back.

They both ducked back down under the coffee table as another explosion rocked nearby, knocking over lamps and books and bringing down wall hangings.

“Who ams shootsing at us?” asked Skwisgaar, ducking as he was nearly hit by another falling lamp.

“I think the Empire likes your work, Pickles,” said Charles, who was hugging a good lamp.

“Doods! We gaht to get da feck outta here!”

“He's right!” shouted Charles. “Everybody! Get to the vehicles! And somebody WAKE UP TOKI!”

On Charles' word, the men raced out of the house, Nathan stopping to shake Toki, who, evidently strong in the Force of sound sleep, was still on the couch, snoring away.

Pickles had started his speeder before Charles had even leapt inside. Nathan mounted his speeder bike, with Toki and Skwisgaar in the two side cars, and they were off, but only bare minutes later they were being pursued by Imperial Biker Scouts on their own, lighter speeder bikes.

Charles turned back at the sound of an especially loud explosion. “Goddammit! I had just finished paying off the mortgage on that place.”

“Feck da Empire!” shouted Pickles, who suddenly ducked at the sound of gunfire. “Does douchebags are SHOOTIN' at us!” he screamed.

“Slow down!” ordered Charles.

“Wut?”

“I told you,” said Charles, igniting his lightsaber, “SLOW DOWN!”

Pickles suddenly grinned and hit the brakes. Nathan looked back, confused, as he suddenly roared past Charles and Pickles on the speeder bike.

“What do those fuckers think they're doing?” Nathan yelled.

“I t'inks I ams knows!” said Skwisgaar, looking back. 

Master Charles was standing up on his seat now, blocking laser blasts from their pursuers with his lightsaber. An imperial biker scout had pulled up alongside Pickles' landspeeder. Charles gracefully leapt over onto the bike, neatly knocking the hapless biker scout off as he did so. He slipped into the seat, grabbing the handle, and rode back to disable another pursuing bike with a stroke of the saber.

“I gots to tries dat!” Skwisgaar shouted. “Slows down, Nat'ans.”

“Looks fucking dangerous, dude!” said Nathan.

“Ja!” agreed Skwisgaar, pulling out the lightsaber he had borrowed from Charles.

Nathan throttled back, and the heavy speeder bike slowed enough it was overtaken by Pickles in the landspeeder. Skwisgaar stood up in the sidecar, readying himself as a biker scout caught up with them. Meanwhile, Pickles, up ahead, was firing back at a pursuing Imperial soldier using his head tentacles to man the laser pistol while he steered his speeder. He ducked a blast that shattered his windshield, and then fired a return right into the pursuing bike's steering mechanism.

The bike that had been pursuing Pickles suddenly veered, spinning out of control. It careened into Nathan's path. With quick reflexes Nathan jerked his larger bike out of the way of the wreckage, but the sudden change in direction jerked Skwisgaar off his feet. Instead of landing cleanly on the back of the Imperial speeder bike, as he had been intending, Skwisgaar ended up doing a belly flop to the seat, his lightsaber slipping from his grasp, bouncing off uselessly on the rocky ground.

Skwisgaar spent some moments desperately wrestling away the biker scout's pistol. The bike veered crazily from side to side as the scout tried to shoot and steer a the same time. Skwisgaar managed to pull himself into the seat and dislodged the biker scout, but almost immediately, another biker scout pulled up and simultaneously tried to ram him and shoot him.

“Fuck,” said Skwisgaar, who, being unarmed, could only duck.

Somewhere up ahead of Skwisgaar, Toki, still riding in his sidecar, shouted, “Nat'ans!” 

“Yeah, kid?”

“Ams gets me da bike, too.”

Nathan grinned a pointed-tooth grin and eased off the throttle. One of the more persistent biker scouts pulled alongside, and Toki suddenly stood up in the sidecar.

Skwisgaar ducked as another shot from the Imperial's laser pistol nearly took his head off. He looked ahead and smiled.

“Hey smarts guys! Looks where you ams goings!” he shouted to the biker scout. The scout looked ahead just in time to see another bike bearing down on him in the world's fastest game of chicken. 

The scout had time to scream and take his hands off the handlebars. He veered off the road, and straight into a ancient tree, producing a warm red fireball as he did so.

Skwisgaar sighed in relief and watched as the crazy winner of the chicken game turned his bike around and pulled alongside. “T'anks, kid,” Skwisgaar told Toki. “I ams owes you one now.”

“Ams dat all of dems?” asked Toki.

“For now. I guess.” Skwisgaar pointed up. “But 'tinkis I ams hears more ships.”

“Why dey ams sent so many guys?” asked Toki.

“I ams not know. Hey, dere dey are!”

The two pulled up to where Charles and Nathan had stopped alongside Pickles' now badly smoking landspeeder.

“Doods gaht me right in da engine block,” Pickles was sighing. “Did yoo doods git 'em all?”

“We t'inks dere ams more coming,” said Skwisgaar. 

“Why were there so many of those assholes? You not pay your phone bill or some shit, Charles?” asked Nathan.

Suddenly, everyone flinched as a mid-sized star ship appeared hovering right overhead, guns pointed in their direction.

“Fucks!” said Toki as everybody raised their hands in a gesture of surrender.

Still hanging overhead, the vessel slowly opened a gangway. There was a strange furry man standing up at the top of the ramp.

“Hey, any of you rebel douchebagsch need a ride?” he yelled down.

“About fucking time you showed up!” Charles yelled back. He had already jumped up on the end of the gangway.

“I took the schenic route!” laughed the furry man, pumping Charles' hand. “Come on, asschholes! Hurry the fuck up!” he yelled down at everyone else.

People began grabbing what few items they'd salvaged from Charles' house that morning and jumping on the ramp. “Help me with the bike,” grumbled Nathan. “Is this guy gonna LAND?”

“I ams not t'inks so,” laughed Skwisgaar, helping Nathan push the large speeder bike up on the not-quite-earthbound ramp. 

Toki rode up the plank on the speeder bike he had nicked from an Imperial. He was amazed. He hadn't been aboard a starship, other than the rust bucket his uncle had kept in the hangar. And this looked.... Well, it frankly looked like another rust bucket.

“Guys, this is Captain Murderface,” said Charles, indicating the man who had been shouting at them. He looked like a very big cat, with black-striped white fur, and twinkling amber eyes. “This is Nathan, Skwisgaar, Toki, and this is Pickles,” said Charles, introducing everyone.

“Picklesch?” asked Murderface. “General Picklesch?” The yellow eyes opened wide.

“Uh. Yeh,” admitted Pickles.

“I don't believe thisch! Thisch isch an honor,” Murderface said, eagerly pumping Pickles' hand. “DIC! Hey, DIC, get out here! You're not gonna believe thisch!”

“General Pickle?” asked Toki. “I t'ought you ams da bartender?”

“Uh, well, guy's gahta make a living,” shrugged Pickles.

“Toki, General Pickles is a great leader of the Rebellion,” Charles told him.

“Awww. I wouldn't say dat,” said Pickles, who was actually blushing. 

“DIC!” said Murderface as a magenta-colored humanoid droid awkwardly shuffled out. Toki squinted at the robot. It looked vaguely like a protocol droid, but where the eyes should have been were only burned out holes.

“Thisch is Dee-One-See, my nav droid!” said Murderface. “DIC, this is General Pickles.”

“Pickles! Baby!” said DIC. “We're your biggest fans, baby. Yeah!”

“But, dis guy's navigation droid? He ams blind?” Toki whispered to Skwisgaar.

“Uh. I ams guesses so,” said Skwisgaar.

“Murderface, we gotta get off this planet,” explained Charles. “It's getting too fucking dangerous.”

“I'd like to get off thisch dump too,” shrugged Murderface, licking a paw with a lazy pink tongue and rubbing it against his forehead. “But my hyperdrive is trasched. We took schome Imperial fire during our last misschion.”

“Let me look at it!” said Nathan. “I can fix ANYTHING!”

“Nate, baby,” said DIC. “Nothing personal, but do we want a Crocodoid messing with our wiring, Bill baby, yeah?”

Nathan glowered at DIC, teeth pointed and eyes narrowing to slits. DIC stepped worriedly behind Murderface.

“If he can fixsch it? Fuck yeah, I want him messching with it!” said Murderface. “Come on, Nathan!”

 

Charles' house lay in smoking ruins.

The remains of the small residence was now swarming with Imperial troops. Captain Crozier stood among them, fuming to his underlings.

“Bounty hunters. Buncha bullshit. We don't need their scum!” He cast a particularly irritated glance in the direction of a large figure crouching among the ruins.

Crozier looked up as a large shadow crossed the land. It was an Imperial shuttle, blocking out the sunlight. Crozier watched as the large but graceful vehicle folded its magnificent white wings and slowly alit near the house. And then the gangplank was lowered, and an honor guard of stormtroopers emerged to stand at attention. Crozier himself stood erect as an officer shouted, “Attention!”

A large figure then strode confidently down the gangplank. Crozier stepped forward as he passed. “Grand Moff Selatcia,” he said. Rumor had it, the big man had been some kind of Jedi high priest before working for the Empire. They said he had dark powers. Of course, they said a lot of things.

“Is my information correct? Have your men failed to apprehend the Rebel scum, Captain Crozier?” Selatcia demanded.

“Sadly, that is correct, sir,” confessed Crozier.

“The Emperor is not pleased,” warned Selatcia.

“We think we know where they were headed. They won't get far.”

“You think? Or you know?”

“Well....” sputtered Crozier.

Without replying, Grand Moff Selatcia strode off towards the wreckage, and Crozier reluctantly padded along after him like some kind of obedient dog.

“Can you track him?” asked Selatcia.

“Yes,” replied the large bounty hunter who was still carefully examining the wreckage.

“I want him. And I want him ALIVE,” Selatcia told him.

The bounty hunter stood up and turned towards Selatcia. Crozier cringed. The man had no face, just a mysterious, Noh-like mask. It was made of some kind of metal alloy. 

“As you wish,” said the bounty hunter.

 

_End of Part 1_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will young Toki Wartooth be accepted into the Jedi Order? Or will he be forced to remain forever on his boring crappy home planet, repairing cranky mining droids and drinking blue milk? This fic is set in the Star Wars universe, between the time of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and the original Star Wars: A New Hope (which some of you kiddies might also know as Episode IV).

Title: That Guy Strikes Back, Part 2 of 2  
Author: tikistitch  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Will young Toki Wartooth be accepted into the Jedi Order? Or will he be forced to remain forever on his boring crappy home planet, repairing cranky mining droids and drinking blue milk? This fic is set in the Star Wars universe, between the time of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and the original Star Wars: A New Hope (which some of you kiddies might also know as Episode IV).  
Characters/Pairings: Dethklok ensemble; sorta S/T if you squint, hint of C/P, whiff of M/K.  
Disclaimer: Apologies are owed, as usual, to Brendon Small and the Cartoon Network, for theft of characters; to Lucasfilm Limited, for pilfering an entire universe and settings; and lastly, to you, the reader, for bearing with this nonsense.  
Warnings: Cursing, ridiculous side of the Force.  
Notes: If you are one of those legendary folks who has never seen any of the Star Wars films: seriously, what the fuck? Beta by the incomparable Zsomeone.

 

_Part 2 of 2_

“Remember, the saber comes out of this end,” Master Charles explained, flashing a dry smile over at Skwisgaar, who was standing nearby. “And, try not to lose it.” Skwisgaar scowled while Charles carefully stepped back a few paces.

Toki ignited the saber, the blade producing a rich vein of yellow light. Toki felt a very slight vibration in the hilt, and heard the soft hum. He tried a couple of strokes, as Charles wisely jumped back yet another pace.

“An' try not t' knock yer instructer's head awf,” laughed Pickles. He was sitting cross-legged up on some kind of refuse-strewn counter inside the common room in Captain Murderface's ship, lighting up another ever-present smoke.

“Hey, no schmoking on board!” warned Murderface, narrowing his yellow cat eyes.

“No?” asked Pickles, shrugging some head tentacles.

“Not unlessch you've brought enough for the captain!”

Pickles grinned and, fishing in his vest with a tentacle, produced a smoke for Murderface, who stuck it in his furry mouth and contentedly wandered back towards the bridge.

Toki snapped off the saber, the blade disappearing. He looked around. “So, we ams gots da blind navigator, and now da captains guy ams stoned?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” agreed Charles, who was fishing around in his bag. He tossed up a metal ball, which then hung suspended in the air. “Now, this is for training. What you wanna do, you wanna repel the blasts with your saber.”

“And what if I ams not does that?” asked Toki, who was immediately answered by a sharp sting to his posterior after the training ball fired a small voltage shock at him. “Owie, what da fucks?”

Pickles laughed. “You gotta get up your lightsaber,” said Charles.

“Why you ams does dis, Charles?” said Skwisgaar.

“Whats the matter now?” asked Charles.

Skwisgaar threw up an exasperated hand. “He ams obliviously too olds to trains. You ams just dragsing him into dis mess.”

“Well,” said Charles softly. “I think that's up to the boy, don't you? You said you're eighteen, isn't that right, Toki?”

“Dat ams rights!” said Toki.

“Pffft!” sneered Skwisgaar. “I gots to go help Nat'ans with some repairs,” he grumbled. “Dat ams actually useful!” And then he stalked off.

“What ams wit' him?” asked Toki. “Hims ams not likes me or something?”

“It's not that, Toki,” sighed Charles, crossing his arms into the sleeves of his robes. “Look. You know about Order 66 right?”

“Nat'an ams said dey hunted da Jedi?” asked Toki.

“That's right. The Empire ordered us all hunted down. But, it's hard to kill a Jedi, so they got a lot of us, but not all of us. They've been sending bounty hunters to finish off the last of us. And, well, there's this one guy.” Charles leaned back against the table, next to Pickles. “No one is quite sure who he is. He always wears a mask.” Charles traced a finger down the red scar on his cheek. “He's the guy who gave me this. He went after Skwisgaar too. Skwisgaar managed to get away, but.... He had a padawan.... An apprentice.”

“Dat guy...?” asked Toki, his eyes widening. “Da masked guys? He ams killed his apprentice?”

Charles nodded.

“Kid! You don't say KILLED! You never say KILLED!” raved Nathan. He had just entered the common area, greenish skin now smeared with black grease, and holding what looked like a badly burned out piece of equipment.

“You don't?” asked Charles.

“It's BAD LUCK! Everyone knows this,” averred the Crocodoid.

“What ams you say insteads?” asked Toki.

“He was GORBA MELTED!” said Nathan.

“Gorba melted?” asked Charles, exchanging a skeptical glance with Pickles.

“Gorbas melted,” repeated Toki, solemnly.

“Uh. Are you having a problem with the repairs, Nathan?” Charles asked.

“I can't fix this shit!” howled Nathan, waving the damaged equipment.

“What'sch the fussch?” asked Murderface, who was still smoking Pickles' spice joint, and had just wandered back into the compartment. “Scounds like Gundarksch mating scheason in here.”

“Your hyperdrive is FUCKED!” said Nathan.

“That'sch what I tried to tell you, Lizschard Facshe,” laughed Murderface.

“Yeah well we gotta buy another one, Tiger Ass.”

“You guysch got money?” asked Murderface, scratching behind a black-tipped ear and switching his tail. “Thosche thingsch ain't cheap.”

There was a mass shaking of heads. “The Empire just, uh, repossessed all I had,” said Charles sadly.

“I ams knows da guy, maybes,” piped up Toki.

“Yeah. Really kid?” asked Murderface.

“Ja. Dere ams da junk dealer in Mos Revenant. Sometimes he ams helps me gets stuff cheap for da mine.”

“A nice junk dealer?” said Nathan skeptically. “Eh, that doesn't sound good, most of those guys are pretty creepy.”

“Well,” said Charles, rubbing his forehead, “I don't really see that we have a choice. Murderface, can you take us to Mos Revenant?”

“Hey, DIC!” hollered Murderface. “Set course for Mosch Revenant!”

“Revenant, baby, yeah!” the nav droid yelled back.

“I dunno if I trust that pink droid,” muttered Nathan, narrowing his slitted eyed. “He seems like a weird dude.”

“Toki,” said Charles, pulling another saber handle out of the box. “Skwisgaar managed to lose his saber. _Again._ Why don't you go give this to him?” he asked, tossing it to Toki.

“OK, ja!” said Toki, eagerly grabbing the saber and running out of the room.

“Wut are yoo up to, chief?” inquired Pickles from his haze of spice smoke.

“What, me? Nothing,” shrugged Charles, looking after Toki.

Toki ran along the corridors of the ship and soon located Skwisgaar noisily banging on a piece of equipment. 

“Oh, hey, let me helps!” said Toki. He expertly flipped a couple of switches, and then the formerly stubborn handle easily turned.

“Oh. Ja. I ams abouts to do dat,” muttered Skwisgaar. “Whats you doings here?”

“Charles said to gives you dis saber, because you lost da one he give you after you lost da other one he gives you after you lost your own sabers!”

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, but took the lightsaber. He nodded to Toki, who turned to leave. “Look. Kid.”

Toki turned back.

“You ams not seem like the bad guys,” said Skwisgaar, experimentally waving the saber handle. “An'. I owes you one. But dis stuff? Ams dangerous. Maybe it ams not da life you wants.”

“I knows you ams has da padawans, and he ams … gorbas melted!” said Toki.

“Pfffft. You ams been talking to Nat'ans,” sighed Skwisgaar.

“But I ams not afraids!” vowed Toki.

“I know you ams braves, kid,” said Skwisgaar. “You ams not gots to tell me.” He reached out and traced a piece of Toki's fine brown hair between his fingertips. Toki blinked, and went very still.

“We're landing on MOS REVENANT, baby, YEAH!” trilled DIC the nav droid, who had just trundled into the room. Toki and Skwisgaar both jumped. 

“Uh, ja, DIC?” grumbled Skwisgaar.

“Time to STRAP YOURSELVES IN, babies,” scolded the robot. “We're in for a BUMPY RIDE!”

Toki took this as his cue to scurry off and, in a moment, Skwisgaar followed.

 

“Hey! T-t-toki! You gotta p-p-problem for your Uncle Rockso?”

“Eh. Told you. Creepy dude,” Nathan muttered to Charles, who merely shook his head at the weird flying being who was now hovering around Toki. Rockso looked like someone had cut the spring off a jack in the box and just let it bounce around the room on its own. He had a large, white, oversized head and a small, almost shriveled looking body, as well as constantly, madly buzzing bright blue wings which, oddly enough, looked far too small to support such a big head.

They were inside an utterly chaotic looking junk shop. If the shop had any kind of specialty at all, it was difficult to determine, as it looked like a magpie's nest: a collection of everything bright and shiny that might have washed up from the alleyways of Mos Revenant.

“Harlequin,” Charles muttered to Nathan. “They're all like this. Unfortunately.” To Rockso he said, “We need a hyperdrive for a Necrophagia 1600.”

“N-necrophagia! You're l-lucky you c-c-c-came to Rockso, k-k-kids. That's an old model. No one's g-g-gonna stock a hyperdrive but meeee!”

“Great,” said Charles, who nevertheless didn't look terribly pleased.

“I g-g-g-gotta deal for you, little h-h-hoodie guy!” said Rockso, who was hovering uncomfortably close to Charles. “Let's s-s-step over here, for a private ch-ch-chat, dig?” he whispered, herding Charles and Nathan over to a far corner of the junk shop.

“Stay there, Toki,” called Charles. “We'll just be a minute.”

“I couldn't take more than a minute with this freak,” Nathan muttered, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“We can d-d-deal, Mister Mister,” Rockso was telling Charles. “Just slap my little H-h-harlequin palm with the cash, baby!”

“How much you want for it?” asked Charles.

“It's not how much but how h-h-h-high. You understand the p-plan, little man?”

“I understand I'd really like to punch him in the face just about now,” grumbled Nathan.

“No, I don't understand,” Charles told Rockso. “Care to enlighten me?”

“The kid's from a sp-sp-spice mine, daddy-o,” Rockso whispered in Charles' ear before the Jedi could bat him away. “I want a little t-t-taste, you dig?”

“You wanna be paid in spice?”

“I'm R-ROCKSO THE HARLEQUIN! I DO G-G-GLITTERSTIM!” squealed Rockso, now jumping around the shop like he really was attached to springs. “Seriously. Lots of glitterstim.”

“I never woulda guessed that one,” said Nathan.

“I DO G-G-G-GLITTERSTIM!” squealed Rockso the Harlequin.

“You and Skwisgaar dumped your stim stash when you got raided?” Charles was whispering to Nathan.

“Yeah. We had to. IMPERIAL BASTARDS. We got nothing left.”

“We'll have to mull this over,” Charles told the Harlequin. “C'mon,” he said to Nathan. But they stopped short when Rockso suddenly bounced in front of him.

“What about the k-k-k-kid, Mr. H-hoodie Man?”

Charles stopped and frowned. “What about the kid?”

“M-m-maybe he could stay here and work for R-Rockso! You know, do some SP-SP-SPECIAL WORK for a Harlequin? In exchange for your hyperd-d-drive?”

Charles jerked an arm. Rockso suddenly found himself force-pulled down so he was eye to eye with Charles. “Not. On your life. Clown.”

“Well, you don't need to get N-N-NASTY, H-hoodie Goodie!” Rockso, released from the grip, bounced off irritably.

“Toki,” growled Charles. “We're going.” Nathan grabbed Toki, who was still staring after the girl, and the three exited the shop, to the bustling streets of Mos Revenant.

“So, what are we gonna do?” asked Nathan.

“I don't know,” Charles confessed.

“You know. There's other ways to liberate a hyperdrive from a douchebag.”

“Yeah, but we don't want to attract any more attention,” said Charles.

“Look!” said Toki. He had just pulled a holo-poster down from a brick wall and was flourishing it at Charles and Nathan. “A race!”

“Yeah, Toki,” sighed Nathan. “That's very nice.”

“No, look, ams da steepleschases! I could ams do dat!”

“Let me see that,” said Charles, taking the poster.

“You guys are gonna go watch the fucking races now?” Nathan grumbled.

“Ams what I used to do in da speeder. When you guys ams saw me!” Toki explained.

“OK,” said Nathan. “Yeah, you could do it.” He shrugged. “You could probably win. You're actually pretty bad ass.”

“That's just the first part,” said Charles, looking at Toki. “Belphegorians? They're huge gamblers.”

“Eh. Well. Not much else to do on this fucking piece of shit planet,” said Nathan. “I mean, no offense to you piece of shit planet,” he told Toki.

“Ja. My planet ams da pieces of shit,” admitted Toki.

“We could definitely win more than enough for a hyperdrive,” mused Charles. “You could adapt one of those speeder bikes we, uh, appropriated from the Empire.”

“I could do that, but....” said Nathan. He looked closely at the holo-poster Charles was holding. As you moved it, it showed a speeder bike whiz by, and then crash, in flames, into a rock wall. “Look, you know the real reason guys go see steeplechases ain't the race?” he asked.

“It ams to see guys blow up!” Toki supplied. Nathan frowned at him. “Gorba melts!” concluded Toki.

“Let's head back to the ship,” said Charles.

 

“OK, kid, you're all set. Let's take 'er FOR A RIDE!” thundered Nathan.

“Uh, you ams fixed da t'ing with da....” asked Toki, pointing at the heavily modified Imperial speeder bike now parked just outside Murderface's ship.

“Oh, yeah! That's all fixed! That's fine!” said Nathan.

“An dat other t'ing?” asked Toki, now crouching by the bike and looking skeptical.

“Oh, yeah! I fixed that other thing! I fixed all the things! Everything is fixed! And READY TO RIDE!”

Sitting back on a rock outcropping, Pickles in his customary haze of spice smoke exchanged a glance with Charles. “Wanna bet?” Pickles whispered.

“Actually, no,” sighed Charles.

Toki had mounted the bike. He cringed as he fired it up, and then opened his eyes. He nodded at Nathan, as evidently the smooth start up indicated some issue had indeed been corrected.

And then he put it in gear, and eased off the brake. 

The bike took off like a shot. “Wowee!” said Toki, momentarily impressed at the amazing acceleration. And then he screamed as it all went wrong. Suddenly he was upside down, having not slowed down at all.

“Oops,” said Nathan, “might've needed some work on those stabilizers.”

“Ya think?” sighed Charles, rubbing his eyes.

Nathan went running off after Toki, who had landed in some scrubby bushes, and the bike, which, lacking a driver, had come to rest, still upside-down, some meters down the road.

“Sooo,” Pickles asked Charles. “Wuz Skwisgaar as gud a Jedi as Nat'an is a mechanic?”

Charles frowned and snatched the smoke from Pickles. He inhaled deeply. 

“Doo yoo t'ink we kin have somethin' ready before da race?”

Charles shook his head and handed the smoke back to Pickles. “This was a stupid idea. Why did I agree to this stupid idea?”

“Dis is actually one o' yer better ideas.”

“What?” scoffed Charles. “Name a worse idea!”

“Wut about dose Twi'lek dancin' gurls on Beherit V?”

“Oh,” laughed Charles. “Uh. Yeah. I guess that wasn't one ot my better ideas.”

“We need yoo back, yoo know,” said Pickles.

“Who needs me?” asked Charles, lifting an eyebrow.

Pickles exhaled. “Da Rebellyun.”

“Just the Rebellion?” asked Charles, eyeing Pickles.

“Do any of you babies want REFRESHMENT?” burbled DIC, who had minced out bearing a tray of metallic glasses.

“Refreshment?” barked Nathan, who was walking the speeder bike back, along with a slightly limping Toki. “I wanna goddam BEER.”

“Dee-One-See doesn't serve RUDE people!” chided the droid as Pickles and Charles both grabbed beverages from the tray. “Be nice to DIC and DIC be nice to you. Yeah.”

“Are you guysch annoying my droid?” asked Captain Murderface, switching his tail.

“Eh,” grumbled Nathan.

“How'sch it going?”

“Da stabilizers cud yoose sum work,” said Pickles.

“IT'S JUST A MINOR GLITCH!” protested Nathan. 

“Minor?” asked Toki. “It ams takes my head off!”

“Don't be high maintenance, kid, no one likes that,” grumbled Nathan, as he set to work with a hydrospanner.

“I ams prefers da bike dat ams rightsides ups!” grumbled Toki.

“Is Skwisgaar back yet?” asked Charles.

“Haven't scheen him.”

“I ams back,” sighed Skwisgaar, who had indeed just walked up. He grabbed a glass from DIC's tray and took a very long swig.

“Wut's goin' awn in town?” asked Pickles.

“Ams not good. Dere ams a lot of Imperials in Mos Revenant.”

“Feck,” said Pickles.

“Yeah, we probably should stay out of the city until the race,” noted Charles.

“There we go! Try this!” said Nathan, who had just finished tinkering with the speeder bike.

“Ams it fixed?” asked Toki, rubbing his leg.

“Yeah, of course it's fixed! It's AWESOME!”

“And it ams not dumps me in da bushes agains?”

“Not unless you dump YOURSELF in the bushes!”

Toki, frowning skeptically at Nathan, climbed aboard the bike once again and kickstarted it. He looked uncertain.

“Come on, kid. IT'S FINE!” said Nathan.

“It ams be fine. Nat'an ams da best mechanic. Except when he ams not,” said Skwisgaar, to a lot of chuckling.

“Ja? Maybe you ams try riding it dis time!” said Toki.

“Ja, OK,” said Skwisgaar, hopping on the bike behind Toki, drink still in his hand. “Well, what you ams waiting for?”

Toki, clearly surprised, put the bike in gear.

And the were off.

“Holy feck!” said Pickles. “Dat's fast!”

“Of course it's fast!” said Nathan. “Didn't I tell you? What's wrong with you douchebags. Are you DOUBTING ME?

“Yesch,” grinned Murderface. “Yesch we were.”

“Oh, well, OK then,” said Nathan.

Toki was lighter than air. _Finally_ , he thought. Nathan, damn him, was right, this bike was awesome.

He found a dried up stream bed and took the bike along, easily dodging rocks and hazards. 

“Ams pretty good, huh?” The voice was Skwisgaar's. The Jedi was sitting just in back of him, pressing against him. Toki could smell the beer on his breath, and felt his hand resting lightly at his waist.

“Ja,” agreed Toki. “Ams pretty good.”

Toki came to a halt by an overlook. He stopped and got off, checking to make sure nothing important was rattling off the bike.

“Dat ams da stadiums,” said Skwisgaar, who stood on the overlook, patiently drinking his beer. 

Toki came over and took a look. The racing track was huge, a lot bigger than he'd expected. He whistled low.

“You ams sure about dis?” Skwisgaar asked. His voice was mildly teasing, but Toki bristled.

“Of course I ams sure,” Toki grumbled. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Ams just askings, kids,” said Skwisgaar.

“I ams just da kids to you, huh?”

Skwisgaar confidently eyed Toki up and down. Toki impatiently crossed his arms. The appraising eye made him uncomfortable for some reason.

“No. You ams more dan just da kids. Nat'ans ams rights. You gots somethings special.”

Toki almost gasped, unprepared for the praise. “You t'ink?”

“I knows. In da olds days, we would have found you, and trained you. But, dese days.... Ams no more Jedi Temples. Ams not many of us left. We ams da last of da Jedi,” he finished, now gazing back out over the racing track below.

“So. You ams not gonna train me?” Toki asked.

“You ams sure dat's what you wants, kid?”

“I ams has da name, you knows!”

Skwisgaar's blue eyes were now locked on Toki. He took a step towards the boy. “You sure that's what you wants,” he said, very softly, “Toki?” He reached out to touch Toki's cheek, very lightly. Toki forced himself to keep breathing. The eyes. He could have gotten lost in those eyes.

And then he was lost, somewhere in the universe, so very far away, as Skwisgaar reached over to kiss him: no annoying nav droid to interrupt them now, only the soft breeze there to witness.

Toki finally forced himself to pull back. He wanted to memorize the face, to remember the kiss, for the rest of his life.

“Now, I gots to tell you somet'ings,” said Skwisgaar, smiling and still holding Toki's face.

“Ja?”

“I beens wit' a lot of ladies, kid. And, mens too!” said Skwisgaar, grinning. “Ands other t'ings....”

“What you means?” asked Toki, taking a step backwards, out of Skwisgaar's grasp.

“Well, what dis is, it ams not exclusives! I ams not da types.”

“Ja?” asked Toki, sky blue eyes suddenly darkening. 

“Nope!” said Skwisgaar.

“Ams you da types to walk home?” asked Toki, suddenly jumping on the bike and gunning it.

“Hey, whats?” asked Skwisgaar. “Wait! You ams not do dats!”

But Toki already had. The bike roared and disappeared down the creek bed.

“Fucks,” said Skwisgaar, throwing his glass across some rocks. “Pffft.” He stared, fuming, up the creek bed towards where they had started out, back at Murderface's ship. “And now I ams not got no more beer,” he moaned, looking at the spilled glass.

At length, he set off for the long walk home. He heard a rumbling, and looked up with a smile to see Toki.

Toki was not smiling. Toki idled the bike, and jerked his head for Skwisgaar to come aboard.

“Ja, I knew you coulds not abandon me!” cheered Skwisgaar, leaping towards the bike, which Toki immediately jerked out of his reach. “Hey!”

“Ja, I coulds abandons you. I ams not. Because I ams da nice guys,” sniffed Toki.

Skwisgaar carefully approached the bike again. “Ja. OK. T'anks, Toki,” he said.

And then he jumped on, and they roared off back down the creek bed.

 

It was a bright, clear day on Belphegore, or at least as bright and clear as days went on the planet, under its thick layer of brown smog. And it seemed the entire population of Mos Revenant, and perhaps the surrounding countryside as well, had come out to attend the steeplechase.

The starting point was in a massive venue just outside the city limits. The racers would do a lap around the stadium and then depart on a crazy obstacle course that had been laid out around the surrounding countryside. It was pretty standard for this sort of race, with plenty of low walls, molten lava-filled pools, burning wreckage, and even a sarlacc pit dug at one point. 

The sarlacc was actually a monster not from Belphegore, but from another out of the way outer rim planet. As predators go, the creature was a lazy thing: it dug a deep pit, and waited at the bottom for the unwary to fall into its mouth. The falls were often aided by the creature's many snaking tentacles. However, unlike Belphegorian fauna, the sarlacc did not possess much in the way of crushing jaws. It simply relied on its prey, once fallen into its belly, to behave itself and sit still, being digested over a course that sometimes took centuries. 

At the end of the steeplechase, officials would generally go extract any racers unlucky enough to find themselves in the sarlacc's digestive system. Falling in was more likely than not nonfatal, but it was inevitably annoying, as it usually took a week to completely wash out the sticky and irritating sarlacc digestive juices. 

And, needless to say, finding yourself inside the sarlacc's stomach meant an immediate end to any chances of winning the race.

“This is not my idea of keeping a low profile,” Charles sighed to Pickles as they stood together in the crowded stands. Pickles had also dressed today in a hooded robe. Pickles snaked out a head tentacle and patted Charles on the shoulder.

“Yoo placed da bets?”

“Legal and otherwise,” said Charles, suddenly becoming silent and still as a couple of Imperial officers walked past.

“Why are dere so feckin' many of dose guys?” whispered Pickles. “Dis is an outer rim planet.”

“I wish I knew,” said Charles. “It doesn't make any sense. If they knew were I was, why did they pick now to chase me?”

“Dunno. Dey din't seem to care too much about mah bar before now neither.”

“Oh. Starting time!” said Charles, hearing the fanfare horns. He and Pickles moved stealthily to where they could get a good look at the starting lineup.

 _“What a race, what a race!”_ came the voice over the loudspeaker. _“I mean, isn't it a race?”_

 _“Well, I'm not sure.”_ came a second voice. _”I know we've all technically been called here for a race.”_

 _“Yes, it's what we've been lead to expect isn't it?”_ said the first voice.

_“Then I expect it will be a race!”_

_“It will be disappointing if it is not!”_

_“Let's announce it together, shall we?”_

_“Welcome to- Oh, wait. You go too.”_

_“Welcome- No, you have to start.”_

_“You start first.”_

_“No, I can't start first, then we won't both do it simultaneously!”_

Pickles and Charles frowned at each other. “Dose are da worst announcers in history.”

 

Down on the race course, Toki looked up, astonished, at the cheering crowd. While he had been bursting with confidence the whole time Nathan had been rebuilding his speeder bike, he suddenly felt it all sap away. He had never seen so many people in one place. In fact, he was astonished to see there were actually that many beings on his ruined planet. 

The drivers on either side glared at him as they pulled on their helmets. There were perhaps three dozen racers here today in all. Toki was the youngest person on the course, and, he thought, the only neophyte. He knew he could race his bike, but he had never tried any of his tricks in the presence of other bikers – at least, other than when they had been pursued by the biker scouts. And he had heard tales of these guys. They did not play nice out on the course. He spotted some spikes and snares sticking out from some of the other vehicles.

He searched the crowd. His keen eyes picked out Charles and Pickles, though, as they had agreed, he didn't hail them. But he didn't see Nathan. 

Or Skwisgaar.

He had a sudden thought, _what the fuck am I doing here?_ His mind drifted back to the spice mine. His uncle. And then, with determination, he pulled on his helmet and mounted his bike. He decided to take Nathan's suggestion, “Don't fucking crash.”

The horns sounded.

Toki held his breath.

And then, the flag flashed.

And they were off. Toki's bike, a disguised Imperial model, was lighter than many of the other vehicles. This, along with Toki's lightning fast reflexes and Jedi sense of the future, made him faster and fleeter than the other models. But as Nathan had also explained, he wouldn't have much of a chance if, as they were bound to do, the other racers decided to batter him off the course.

He had decided to treat the other bikes as simply more obstacles on an already crowded course. He would try to predict their course and skim around them. It sounded easy when you were sitting on the deck of Murderface's crowded star ship, knocking back another beer, but here, going at breakneck speed and trying not to get singed by a ring of fire or clobbered by a bike twice your size? It was abso-fucking-lutely nuts.

He saw another racer coming at him out of the corner of his eye. Wait. Wait. Wait. And then at the last second, he pulled the bike up, and let the guy who was trying to batter him instead careen into the unfortunate guy on the other side. Both ended up in a fire ball. Yeah, teach them to fuck with Toki!

He skimmed over the sarlacc pit, narrowly avoiding the tentacles, although he heard the screams of another racer who was not so fortunate. Charles had advised him to stay in the middle of the pack for the first couple of laps. Charles had told him to wait and make a break when the field had thinned, as it inevitably did on the first laps.

The racers turned at the furthest marker, and went heading back.

Unseen by Toki or any of the other racers, a lone figure awaited along the sidelines, watching through binoculars.

And then the lone figure dropped the glasses, and mounted his own bike.

 

“Admiral Ravenwood.”

Captain Crozier came to attention as Grand Moff Selatcia strode into the bridge of Ravenwood's ship.

“Are your men assembled?” demanded Selatcia.

“Yes,” puffed Ravenwood from somewhere under his elaborate ceremonial headdress. “Our agent will extract the boy, and then Captain Crozier's men who are arrayed at the raceway will take care of any of his rebel allies.”

“Grand Moff Selatcia, I don't like this,” piped up Crozier, although he cringed inside to see attention suddenly directed his way. 

“Yes, Captian Crozier?” hissed Admiral Ravenwood as Selatcia stared at him.

Crozier steeled himself. “Some of the individuals who have been seen with the boy. They are not to be underestimated. I think.... I think we should extract him. Now.”

“Patience, Captain Crozier,” said Selatcia. “Patience. This is how we will crush the Rebellion.”

“Very good, sir,” said Crozier.

Selatcia strode off, as Ravenwood cast a furious glance back at Crozier. “Go tend to your men, Crozier,” said Ravenwood, as he too flounced off.

“Asshole,” grumbled Crozier under his breath.

 

“Pickles.”

“Wut, chief?”

“That racer?”

“Yeh.” Pickles stared hard as the racers came around for the first lap, and then started. “He don't gaht a number.”

“No. He doesn't,” said Charles.

They exchanged a worried glance. Pickles then inclined his head.

There were groups of stormtroopers assembling in back of the stands, obviously monitoring all the exits.

“Fuck,” said Charles.

“Hey, chief, dis is like da old days, huh? Two of us, agenst impahsible ahds!”

“Like old times, huh?”

Pickles' grin was visible under the hood.

 

Toki was doing very well. He had had a couple of narrow misses, but now, as Charles had predicted, the field had thinned considerably. He cast a quick glance at the still smoking wreckage of some racers from the first round. It was getting time to make a break for it.

He watched a bigger bike roar past him. The driver unfortunately couldn't get the bike up in time for a low rock wall. The driver made it over, but his bike didn't, crashing into the hazard, as the rider was flung out ahead. 

Toki easily cleared the rock wall, and then tensed as another racer came too close alongside him, getting ready to maneuver away. Then he cringed as the racer beside him suddenly and inexplicably skidded out of control, careening into a rock hazard and dissolving instantly into dust. He cast a nervous glance in that direction. There was another bike nearby. A really big one, like Nathan's. Weird, he didn't remember it from the start, although the field had been crowded. 

He veered around a tight corner and made up some ground, but then there was a stretch of straightaway where the new biker closed the distance. Toki chanced a look back. And then his stomach tightened.

The pursuing racer didn't have a face. He was wearing a mask. Made of metal.

 

“Oh, lookee dere! Dey're Rebels! Dey gaht to be!”

The confused stormtroopers, gathered near one of the stadium exits, looked at each other and then at the wildly gesticulating hooded man.

“Dey were saying 'Down wit' da Empire!' 'Viva da Rebellyun!'”

The troopers regarded him.

“An'.... An' 'Dart' Vader is a dumb mudderdouchebag!'”

The stormtroopers seemed to make a decision. “We should check it out. Let's go.”

Pickles watched them thunder away. And then, carefully reaching back with a head tentacle, pulled the fire alarm. He sauntered away, whistling.

 

Toki accelerated, wondering what the fuck he was gonna do.

The man with the metal face was now his constant companion, running the course with him, but then, agonizingly, backing off. If any of the other racers came too close, however, they were not so lucky: they were either forced off the course (usually into a fireball) or, more worryingly, seemed to lose control of their vehicle and spin off. He suspected the man in the mask was armed, although he hadn't been able to get a glace at the weapon. Did the guy have a gun?

He tried to keep his mind on the course. The sarlacc pit was coming up again. It was no worry getting over it, the trouble was the unpredictable tentacles that the monster tended to reach out just when an unwary racer was riding over. 

Some of the racers, he noticed, actually detoured around the pit, which seemed unwise if you wanted to win. But Toki suddenly frowned. He had an idea. He pointed the bike straight for the middle of the pit. As he figured, the guy with the mask was seconds behind him.

Just as he made the middle of the pit, he brought out a small photon firecracker, and tossed it down in to the pit, where it impacted on a rather irritated sarlacc. He ducked as he was immediately surrounded by angry tentacles, but the man in the metal mask, a fraction of a second behind, ended up running right into them.

Toki emerged on the other side of the pit, but he heard a squalling of air brakes, and a sickening crunching of metal.

He grinned, and raced on.

 

 _“Oh, god, the fire alarm, everybody, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”_ wailed the voice over the loudspeakers.

_“Yes, the whole place is coming down! Panic!”_

_“Yes, run rampant, everybody! Don't mind the women and children!”_

_“They can take care of themselves!”_

Charles, sitting behind the two race announcers in their booth, waved his hand and said, “If you have any questions, ask a stormtrooper.”

_”Yes, everybody, go and get a stormtrooper!”_

_“Go and ask them for help! Maybe you'll survive!”_

“Or maybe you won't,” suggested Charles, waving a finger.

_“Or maybe you won't!”_

“Thanks, guys,” grinned Charles.

 

“You think they were Jedi?”

“The lead dude was, s-s-stormy baby! He was the m-m-magic man, with the m-m-magic hands. That's why Rockso t-t-tipped you off. Me and the Empire. We're c-c-c-close baby!” 

“Yeah. We got the alert.”

“So, you brought some s-s-sweet stuff for R-rockso the Harlequin? I DO G-G-G-GLITTERSTIM!” Rockso announced, bouncing hither and thither around the junk shop as a rather bored-looking stormtrooper and his weird blind magenta protocol droid looked on.

“You do know, you are trafficking in an illegal drug?” asked the trooper, switching his long white tail.

“I didn't know the Empire r-r-recruited p-pussy cat men, P-pussy Cat Man,” said Rockso, suddenly suspicious.

“They don't,” offered the stormtrooper.

Rockso suddenly quit bouncing. “Something ain't s-s-square here, s-s-sugar daddy. Are you the f-f-fuzz or not?”

The trooper removed his helmet, scratching his white and black-striped head with his claws. “I'm definitely schaid to be fuzzschy,” he remarked.

Rockso turned to spring out of the store, but was suddenly confronted by the magenta robot. 

“It's nothing but net for Rockso baby, YEAH!” said the robot, releasing something from his midsection. A large flap of netting flew across the room, capturing Rockso.

“This ain't c-c-cool, daddy-o!” wailed Rockso, futilely struggling against the net. “Let me out, bad k-k-k-kitty!”

“Scho,” said stormtrooper Murderface, standing casually over Rockso and regarding his claws. “About that hyperdrive....”

 

“It's a mob scene here!” roared Crozier over the communicator. “Someone pulled the fire alarm! My men have been swarmed! They can't do a goddamned thing!” Around him, at the stadium, chaos reigned.

“So you are too incompetent to deal with a crowd of civilians?” a bored looking Ravenwood asked Crozier's hologram as it stood on the deck of Ravenwood's star destroyer.

“You shoulda let me grab the boy when I wanted to!”

“Our agent will complete the extraction. My own troops will be landing shortly. I counsel patience. As our glorious commander Selatcia suggests.”

“Dammit, Ravenwood, you-”

But the transmission was cut off.

 

Toki suddenly heard the loud roar coming up behind him. “Oh, fucks no!” he whispered.

He turned.

It was Nathan on his giant bike, Skwisgaar in the sidecar.

“Toki! Dude! Fuck the race. We gotta get outta here! We're being surrounded!” yelled Nathan. “The Empire guys are everywhere!”

Toki slowed down beside them and looked around the course perimeter for the first time in a long time. Nathan was right: Imperial landing craft were now descending at points along the course.

“Dat masked guy, he ams beens following me,” breathed Toki as he slowed down beside them.

“Whats? Da metals masks guy?” asked Skwisgaar, his eyes widening.

“Ja man wit' da mask!” said Toki. “I swears, he ams here! He ams following me.”

“I gotta gets dat guy,” growled Skwisgaar. But suddenly, all of them ducked as the sound of Imperial gunfire reported. 

“Ams dey shootsing at us? Again?” said Toki.

“No time for fucking around,” said Nathan, eyes slitted. “We gotta get outta here.”

“What about da hypers drive?” asked Toki.

“Murderface has taken care of it. Come on.”

They all looked up at the large figure suddenly and improbably emerging from the sarlacc pit.

“No,” whispered Toki. “Dat ams impossibles. He ams.... He ams gorba melted!”

But now running at them was a man in a mask. An acid-scarred metal mask.

Skwisgaar leapt from the sidecar and ignited his lightsaber. “You guys ams goes. We gots business.”

“Skwisgaar! There's no time for this shit! Come on!” urged Nathan, gunning his bike.

“No. I ams stays. I ams finishes dis now.”

“Fuck. Toki. Come on!”

“No,” said Toki, quietly dismounting from his own bike. “I ams stays with Skwisgaar.”

Nathan ducked under more Imperial fire. “Stupid assholes!” he shouted, gunning the bike.

Toki gulped, and ignited his own lightsaber, even though he had no fucking idea how to use the damned thing against anything but Master Charles' training ball.

“Ams dis guy da Jedi too?” he asked Skwisgaar.

“No,” said Skwisgaar. “He ams worse. Much worse.”

The masked man charged them, suddenly igniting a strange double-sided lightsaber as he came.

“He ams cuts his way outta da sarlacc,” whispered Toki. “How he ams does dat?”

Skwisgaar said nothing, not taking his eyes from the masked man.

And then the masked man and Skwisgaar flew at each other, their sabers flashing to quickly for Toki to even see what was happening. Toki tried feinting towards the masked man a couple of times, but found himself driven back as the masked man twirled the two-bladed saber. He was amazingly fast for someone so big.

Toki feinted again, but then stumbled back and found himself falling. They were dueling right at the edge of the sarlacc pit. Toki caught himself on the edge and began to scramble out, but suddenly screamed as he felt a tentacle snake around his ankle and was pulled back downwards into the pit.

“Toki!” yelled Skwisgaar. “Ams you all right?”

“Ams fine! No problems!” said Toki as he swiped his saber impotently at the tentacle and was dragged further into the pit.

Skwisgaar aimed a blow, and beat back the masked man. He then ran to the edge of the pit, where Toki was still clinging. “Ams holds still!” he yelled, dropping over and skillfully whacking the tentacle with his lightsaber. 

“Skwisgaar!' screamed Toki as he scrambled out of the pit. “Watch out!”

Skwisgaar looked back, where the masked man was bearing down on him. He rolled to his side to escape a lightsaber blow. Skwisgaar leapt to his feet, but then he cried out. He was up off the ground now, gripped around the waist and lightsaber arm by a sarlacc tentacle. Skwisgaar's lightsaber dropped to the ground. The masked man lunged at a now defenseless Skwisgaar, but then he too was ensnared in a tentacle.

“Noooo!” screamed Toki

“Toki!” shouted Skwisgaar. “Gets outta here.” But then the giant tentacles retracted and he and the masked man disappeared into the sarlacc's burrow.

“No,” whispered Toki. “No, I nots abandons you.” He ran to the side of the pit to get a look, but then he felt himself yanked off his feet. The sarlacc had lassoed his ankle with another writhing tentacle. “Fucks, not agains!” wailed Toki as he dangled, upside-down, over the sarlacc pit, and the terrible mouth of the sarlacc.

Almost without thinking about it he pulled out his own lightsaber and struck blindly at the tentacle, once, twice, three times. But then he connected, and felt himself falling to the ground. 

He tried to stand, but then he immediately dropped to the ground again. Imperial ships were still firing on the field. He looked back, and saw the looming tentacles from the pit. 

Trapped.

Suddenly, Toki felt himself being yanked up yet again. He screamed and careened, this time going up instead of down, flying through the air. 

And then, finally, he felt himself locked in someone's big arms.

He looked up into green slitted eyes.

Nathan. They were both sitting on the gangplank of Murderface's ship.

“Got him?” Charles' voice was a cracked whisper. Charles was collapsed on the floor, weakened by the effort of the great force pull.

“Got 'em!” shouted Nathan.

They all ducked as a blast from an Imperial laser cannon hit the gangplank.

“Murderface!” shouted Charles, his voice raw. “Get us the fuck outta here!”

“We're trying bossch! Lotscha Imperial ships,” came Murderface's voice.

“Go to light speed. Now.”

“What? From the atmoschphere?”

“Wut he sed!” screamed Pickles, helping Charles to his feet. “From da atmusphere!”

“DIC! Lightspeed! NOW!” shouted Murderface.

“Light speed, baby. Yeah!”

Toki looked back at the gangplank, which had just closed with a definite clank.

“Skwisgaar,” he whispered, his veins turning to ice.

And then....

The stars were a blur.

 

“Report, Admiral Ravenwood,” barked Grand Moff Selatcia.

“We have successfully apprehended one of the rebels,” bragged Ravenwood. 

“Where is he?” asked Selactia.

“Our men are extracting him as we speak from the sarlacc pit, sir,” reported Captain Crozier.

“And the boy?”

“Yes. The boy,” said Ravenwood. “Ahem. That was unforseen.”

“Unforseen?” said Selatcia. There was a warning in his voice.

“The rebels jumped to hyperspace with him! From the low atmosphere. It was an impossible move. There was no practical way to intercept them.”

“So, you are saying, you have lost him?” rumbled Selatcia. Something about the Grand Moff's tone: Crozier felt his testicles slip up somewhere into his abdomen.

“There was no possibility of interception,” huffed Ravenwood. “The rebels are clearly mad men. Mad men!”

“You have failed me for the last time, Admiral Ravenwood,” hissed Selatcia. He gestured with one hand. Suddenly, Ravenwood was doubled over, seemingly choking. The reason for his dyspepsia was soon as apparent as it was horrifying: Ravenwood's intestines started to coil out of his mouth. No one moved, nor said a word. The entire room full of Imperial officers was frozen.

Ravenwood fell to the floor, his body collapsing in a heap of bloody entrails. His body spasmed, and then moved no more.

And then all was silence.

“Crozier?” barked Selatcia.

“Yessir,” said Crozier, snapping to attention. “I will.... We will continue the search. We will find the boy,” said Crozier.

“See that you do. I'm counting on you now, ADMIRAL Crozier,” said Selatcia. 

And then he strode off.

 

Toki crouched by the pool and stared, utterly fascinated, at the water flowing into it. It tumbled down the mountainside, and collected here. He stuck a hand in. Cold! 

“Dat's run awf,” Pickles, standing over him, told him.

“Is there a machine up the hill?” Toki asked.

“Naw, dood! It's from meltin' snow!”

“Snow?”

They both looked up at ear-splitting noise from the roaring starship engines.

“We're taking off, dousche bagsch!” yelled Captain Murderface from up the gangplank.

“We'll let you know when we find Skwisgaar, baby, yeah!” yelled DIC, who was standing beside him.

“Uh, who's pilotin' da craft?” Pickles whispered to Charles, who was standing nearby. Charles smiled and shrugged.

“May the Forcshe be with you asschholes!” yelled Murderface. The gangplank retracted, the ship blasted off.

“One o' yer old friends?” Pickles asked Charles. “Where da feckin' hell did yoo meet him?”

“That is a good story,” said Charles, rubbing his forehead. He turned to Toki. “Uh. We need to get going now too,” he told the boy. “We gotta stay separate for a while. Uh. Like we discussed. The empire is looking for us in a group.”

Toki nodded.

“Look, uh, I wouldn't worry about Skwisgaar. He's been in worse scrapes than this. OK?”

Toki nodded.

“And, uh, we're all looking for him. I'm sure he's not.... He's not.... Uh, _gorba melted_.”

Toki nodded, now clearly blinking back tears.

“Ah fer feck's sake!” Pickles strode towards Toki and then enveloped him in a huge arms-and-tentacles hug. “Yoo keep care o' yerself, kiddo! An' we'll be in touch, when we hear somethin'.”

Toki nodded as Pickles released him and this time managed to choke out an “OK.”

“And, uh, remember what I taught you. About the Force and stuff,” said Charles awkwardly. “Whoa!” he said, as Toki enveloped him in a hug. “Uh. There there. Yeah.”

“C'mon, dis is gettin' apallin'ly gay,” laughed Pickles as he jumped into a landspeeder. “Nat'an wud be outraged.”

“Where is Nathan?” asked Charles, hopping into the passenger seat. But Pickles honked the horn, and they were off, Toki waving to them.

Toki stood alone for a while, watching the waterfall with fascination. His whole life, he had never seen water just free, out in the wild before. And the skies: they were blue here. In the daytime. He wondered what the nighttime sky looked like.

He finally turned to the loud roar of an enormous speeder bike.

“Hey, kid, what're you waitin' for?” bellowed Nathan over the thunder of the engines. 

Toki looked at the bike for a long moment. He did not reply.

“Whatsamatter? I thought you wanted to see the fucking universe!”

Toki grabbed his bag, jumped into a sidecar. “We ams go finds Skwisgaar?” he asked.

“Well, I tell ya kid,” said Nathan, crocodile eyes narrowing. “He'll be kinda sticky. After being in that sarlacc. You sure you still wanna find him?” he asked, grinning his pointed teeth grin.

“Ja. I ams sure.”

“Heh. OK then. Let's get the fuck outta here.”

And they were off.

 

_And so the boys went on to have many metal and awesome space adventures, including rescuing Skwisgaar, who was very sticky from the sarlacc tummy and acted sort of pissy and ungrateful about the whole thing. But that is a story for another time._


End file.
